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autismprotocol · 3 months

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Hey, sorry if this is long, but I really like what you guys are doing and have nowhere else to put my theories, so...

Firstly, sorry to be that person, but I actually think you mislabeled the entities for two episodes. Needles reads like an avatar of the slaughter to me. It's like Lietner said, the physical description is less important then the emotional or metaphorical. Needles' thing isn't "look at this scary trick I can do with my flesh body." It's "I am going to cause you intense pain at random by stabbing you with my needles. Please be scared of me :)"

I was also surprised you didn't mark Putting Down Roots as a filth statement. Illness, rotting alive, swarming flies, a deeply unhealthy romantic love. All reads as corruption to me.

Now let's get to my fun crack theory. Episode 7 almost reads to me like the point the powers breached into the new world. Think about it, hilltop road was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of artifacts and "people" (avatars) that map to many different powers (I counted stranger, slaughter, dark, filth, and possibly hunt among the artifacts present). The timeliness doesn't quite match up (we have a statement from the 1800s), but maybe the powers are capable of having retroactively always existed. Or maybe the fan theory that the entities are now the "hungers" that feed on obsession was true until the fears intruded into the world.

Omg thank you so much for the ask I absolutely love over analyzing this goofy lil podcast and i really wanted to have this board be a collaborative and community thing for all of us TMAG/TMAGP fans out there!

starting with the board corrections you pointed out you are absolutely right after reading this I ended up rereading the wiki entries about the Entities because its been a hot second since I've read up on those goobers and I've kinda forgotten how many little nuances that each one has. I had no idea how we missed the clear corruption tie-ins that were occurring in Samuel Webbers journal (Putting Down Roots) especially when you brought up his toxic relationship to his partner.

As with Needles before doing my reread about the fears I just assumed flesh because body modified with needles. but looking into it, sudden piercing needles more cleanly falls into slaughter.

I actually have this ongoing theory originated by my roommate and other blog contributor that the fears might have been scrambled when crossing dimensions. maybe because of this many minor powers have begun to branch out from the main 15 and with that hybrid avatars and entities have been created. With needles I think maybe they fall under the umbrella of slaughter and spiral because of the way they mentally toy with their victims. also could explain why needles has to convince the man on the phone that they're scary because this hybrid power may be new and people have not gotten fearful of it yet.

I'll be making those changes for next weeks board so thank you for pointing them out :D

on to your theory that would make sense especially since this episode (EP 7) is kind of serving as the catalyst for the story to shift into high gear. I think that if the Hilltop charity shop was the entrance point for all of the fears to enter the world it would make complete sense. Hilltop is the one place in the Magnus canon that people have reported traveling to different dimensions. also the date of the incident falls right about the time that Archives started early 2016 so the fears may have also gone back in time to when Jon became the Archivist in TMAs universe (since Jons death is the catalyst that forced them to jump dimensions.) I'm really liking where your theory is heading

also real quick if anyone has more info about the theory that Protocols world lived off of hunger and desire pre the fears appearing I'd love to hear more about that because I've never heard of the until now.

Again thank you so much for the ask I'm so happy you're liking what we're doing here and I hope you continue to share your thoughts and theories with this blog.

-Echo

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cy-cyborg · 7 months

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So... turns out the whole "discovering my autism later in life" wasn't entirely correct for me. I don't know what to say, it's all confusing as hell (confused rant ahead)

I found 2 neurospyc reports, one from when I was 10 and another when I was 16/17 that list traits and test results consistent with what, today, would be considered level 2 autism and ADHD. but then they both turn around and say the neurospyc chose not to diagnose...

The first one had at least a good reason. From my understanding, at that point in time, autism couldn't be diagnosed unless all other possibilities had been ruled out, and the neurospyc says that these traits could also come from brain damage from meningococcol (the illness that caused my physical disability). Meningococcol's effects on a developing brain weren't well understood back then, so I guess I get it. It does, however, lay out some further testing that could be done by other specilists to rule it out, as well as mention what we should expect to see as I grow if it is autism. I met all the autism points, and I have the other specialists' reports ruling out meningococcol side effect theory. I likely still couldn't have been diagnosed at the time, though, because autism and ADHD were considered conflicting diagnoses, but the fact they were still considering it is a big positive to me.

The second one though... doesn't acknowledge any of this. It lists all the same traits (plus the new ones I developed that the other report predicted), talks about their severity and then... turns around and says it's actually not that bad and I don't need a diagnosis 😑. It doesn't say it explicitly, but the second report talks a lot about how friendly I was, how I was doing well in school (I really wasn't, I had like, one class I did well in because it aligned with my special interest, and the rest I was bearly scraping by) how I maintained eye contact and number of other things. It concluded that a diagnosis wasn't needed.

It's worth mentioning that when the second report was done, not only was I only doing high school part-time (3 days a week) because the 5 day week lead to burnout constantly, but I was also receiving the most support I'd ever had because my school recognised something was up and got me extra help (they didn't need a diagnosis because of my physical disability). I literally had someone who's job it was to come find me at lunch and remind me to eat and use the toilet, as well as to help me with assignments because in both yr 10 and yr 11 I almost failed so bad i came close to needing to repeat (i'd already repeated once). Not necessarily because I couldn't do the assignments, though some i definitely needed support on that front too, but because I just forgot they existed and never did them/handed them in. I was also in detention pretty much every day in yrs 7-10 because the same thing happened with regular homework. I either forgot to do it, or refused because I was so burned out, i just couldn't do it. This was all mentioned in the report, and it mentions that the school even provided letters to back the claims up (though i dont have those) and this doctor was like "hmmm, yes, this seems like a person who is well adjusted and in need of no further support! These traits definitely won't cause issues for them in adult life, especially in a country where we make disabled people do time-sensitive paperwork on every single aspect of their lives and have to update said paperwork constantly"

(what no, I'm not salty about something specific to do with government agencies in the Aus disability sector, what are you talking about...)

And shockingly once those supports were gone I nosedived. I've been in pretty much constant burnout since 2019, it was so bad in 2021 I had to stop working (which gutted me, I LOVED my job), and when burnout lasts that long it can do permanent damage.

There's even a report that was with the neurospyc report from one of my pediatric amputee rehab specilists that states I can not go unsupported into the adult sector, I will not cope. I will not be able to communicate my needs effectively. My health will decline. It was backed up by the senior peds. orthopaedic surgeon and the senior peds. plastics surgeon (who all knew me my entire life). The report says they had to bring me back into to the pediatric hospital for a few checkups even after I was 18 because the transition was so overwhelming I just stopped seeking medical treatment. I remember that. I remember trying to talk to the adult sector specilists and them just not understanding me and not understanding what the problem is. I remember the issue at hand (issues with my knee) getting so bad, but not knowing what else to do. I stopped going because i didnt want to be told my issue wasnt that bad. I still don't understand what I did or said wrong, and it's still happening today. My whole pediatric team was right, i needed help, but sure, I don't need extra supports because the neurospyc said "I was friendly".

Just FYI, when they finally did an MRI of the knee it was literally falling apart. The pain I was complaining about was constant dislocation and a bone infection. That knee had to be amputated. It was serious.

My therapist asked me to find these neurospyc reports if I could. I knew I had them but not what they said, and she hoped that there would be something in them that would allow her to make a case to the NDIS that even though we "don't know the reason" because there's no official diagnosis, it's clear I need more support, and theres been proof of it for years. And now I've read through them... Just knowing how well documented it all was, knowing that my pediatric care team, my doctors, my specilists, my parents, my teachers etc all knew I was struggling and tried to get me help, but one person decided "nah" has me just... confused beyond belief. I have a binder full of everything I can find that I'm going to bring to my therapist. I hope we can do something with it now.

#rant post #disability #disabled #autistic #autism #diagnosis #neurodivergent #autism diagnosis

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novankenn · 11 months

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Slightly Unhinged (879 Words)

Deep in the bowls of Beacon's labyrinth like basement, Jaune toiled away. It had been a couple of weeks since he "vanished" and while others worried and searched for him, he became a shadow. Stalking the halls after hours, nicking the items he required to do his work, to achieve his goal.

The promises of elixirs that would promote strength, agility, intelligence, vitality and vigor. It was the answer to his problems... the magic bullet that would allow him to close the chasm between himself and his peers.

/=/

Ozpin: So, still no sign of Mr Arc?

Glynda: None.

Ozpin: Have we reached out to the VPD, just in case he has gone to Vale?

Glynda : I don't feel that is necessary at this stage, considering the reports I have been getting from various members of the staff.

Ozpin: What types of reports?

Glynda: The kitchen staff are reporting missing food and drink items. They figure it's a single student raiding their larders, do to the small amounts that have gone missing.

Glynda took a glance down at her tablet to confirm some information before continuing.

Glynda: Professor Peach is also reporting missing items. Some limited quantities of dust, but more puzzling are the old chemistry and dust mixing equipment, plus some of her stocks of rare flora samples.

Ozpin: So, we have a single student missing, but also minor quantities of supplies being taken.

Ozpin leaned forward on his desk, his hands clasped underneath his chin.

Ozpin: So, if my assumption is correct, you feel Mr Arc is still on beacon’s grounds, and is helping himself to various items around the school, correct?

Glynda: I do. I understand the food stuffs, but the other items are slightly confusing.

Ozpin: I agree. What about his scroll? Have we been able to ping it?

Glynda: No. I refuse to believe that he knows how to disable the tracking software, so the only reasonable conclusion is, he’s keeping it turned off.

Ozpin: Anything further?

Glynda: Aside from the interviews conducted with the remainder of team JNPR, which you have already reviewed. Nothing.

Glynda sucked on her bottom lip for a minute, before speaking up.

Glynda: I think you made a serious mistake, Ozpin, in regard to accepting someone so ill prepared to be here.

Ozpin: Why do you say that?

Glynda: Not even considering his grades, there is the single fact of his fraudulent transcripts…

Ozpin: He passed initiation.

Glynda: Barely and only because Ms Nikos took a liking to him from their first interaction.

Glynda reached up to push her glasses up her nose.

Glynda: Though, I will admit, that he showed remarkable fortitude and ability when it came to directing others; which is supported by his leadership grades. But he wasn’t ready, and I feel the mental strain has caught up with him.

Ozpin: I see.

Ozpin leaned back in his chair

Ozpin: So you feel Mr Arc is having a mental breakdown?

Glynda: I do.

Ozpin: It’s a valid theory, but I feel, no I know, there is something else happening.

Ozpin reached up and rubbed his chin, as if in deep thought.

Ozpin: Has the review of his actions leading up to his disappearance been completed?

Glynda: Yes.

Ozpin: Highlights?

Glynda: Nothing much. Mr Winchester was abusing Jaune’s insecurities, his team interactions were strained; however there is his checking out of three books from the library almost three weeks ago. Books that have yet to be returned.

Ozpin: What were the topics?

Glynda: Alchemy, and a couple of resource books focused on identification of flora and fauna.

Ozpin: Alchemy?

Glynda: Yes. Le traité d'Ophélie sur la propriété alchimique.

Glydna frowned as she saw Ozpin’s whole body stiffen.

Glynda: Ozpin, do you know that book?

Ozpin: (sighing) You could say that. I wrote it, a few hundred years ago, and placed the only remaining copy in the stacks.

Glynda: Then it appears that Mr Arc has found it. Is this a problem?

Ozpin: Do you have a list of the items Professor Peach is missing?

Glynda said nothing, but instead pulled up a file on her tablet and handed the whole device to the Headmaster. It took him only a few minutes to review the list.

Ozpin: Cancel all classes. I want every teacher to start searching Beacon’s basement. We need to find Mr Arc like yesterday!

Glynda: Is it that serious?

Ozpin: Yes. Yes, it is. None of the recipes in that stupid book were designed with thought towards interactions with aura awakened individuals. I wrote it with the intention that its recipes would be used to assist the average person’s life…

Ozpin’s face was drawn and pale, as he dropped the tablet on his desk while rising from his seat.

Ozpin: I… I tested some of them on the aura awakened…

Glynda: Ozpin?

Glynda questioned as Ozpin looked to be shaking, while moving to grab his cane and head for the elevator.

Ozpin: Aura negatively interacts with the products. It corrupts and twists the end results. Mr Arc is in grave danger… if he is still at Beacon as the evidence suggests, the only place he could be hiding out is the basement.

Glynda: I’ll inform all the staff.

Ozpin : I just hope we’re not too late.

#rwby #jaune arc #female!jaune #alchemy #henshin #Slightly Unhinged #YEP... he's writing ANOTHER genderbent Jaune fic...

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mxvladdy · 3 years

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I can't stress enough 'wows' in tve way you write along with the fact that it's you first few posts (i think? Pls correct me) can you do luci mammon and satan with a reader who takes naps bc of overthinking? They just tug their sleeves and shot them a tired look, while looking down shying away. Also, have a nice day and take the time to be yourself!

Aw thanks fam! I am fairly new to posting my works, I tried twice before this with two different writing blogs but I deleted them both bc I felt discouraged. I’m older now and I feel a lot better about my writing, so third time the charm and all that lol! I’m so glad you like my writing! I know I need some work on grammar and expanding my vocabulary.

This was a super cute prompt ;.; I hope I did it justice!

Lucifer

He is a mix of jealous and pissed. He wishes he could fall asleep so easily when he gets inundated with too many things at once. But also- just don’t do that? Where were your manners?

He starts noticing your little peculiarity in class. Specifically that you tend to nod off in advance alchemy and rune scripting. You were being so studious, jotting down notes, ask great questions. Next thing he knows you're out like a light.

He is shocked for a moment before he will wake you up. Your wide doe-eyed frown does nothing to him. JK his hearts clench at your wounded look.

He makes the other brothers report to him about your behavior and odd sleep habit. Were you ill? Was this just something humans did? Devils, was Belphie rubbing off on you?

They all say the same thing. One moment you are working hard or talking to them about a topic you are passionate about, and the next you are yawning hard enough to pop your jaw and shyly asking to lay down.

Well-he can’t have that.

If you are going to fall asleep around anyone it’s going to be him.

He sets up remedial lessons with you after dinner to make up for the work slept through. You sit by him at his long ornate desk while he tutors you on what you missed.

You weren't having any problems, you even finished a few pages. He is proud and then-

“I can almost hear those gears slowing my dear.” Lucifer interrupts himself mid-explanation of Zosimos of Panopolis and Maria the Prophetess's theories of alchemy in human medicine.

You jerk awake and turn to him blinking owlishly. "Yeah, I just need to lay down." You admit.

Lucifer eyes you critically. This was sudden, were you ill? You had been fine moments ago, bright-eyed and enthusiastic. He cups your face, turning it from side to side. "So suddenly? We haven't even discussed the properties of mercury yet." You hum letting your eyes droop. He was always so warm.

"Hour nap break? Please?" His stern gaze softens at how your nose scrunches up cutely as you yawn.

“Very well.” He relents letting you slick over to his couch. You flop over face first with a grunt of satisfaction. You toss and turn for a while, moving his pillows around unsatisfied.

“Luci-” You call in defeat. He ignores you at first. If you wanted to nap fine, he would get some work done in the meantime. “Luci~” You say again. You could see his brow twitching. “Lu-”

“My dear,” He shoots you a withering look. “You are treading a thin line. If you have the energy to call for me you have the energy to study.” You say nothing at his brisk tone, instead of opening your arms to him to join you. “You tempt me.” He purrs hiding his smile behind his paperwork.

“Learned from the best.” Lucifer shakes his head laughing at your smug reply. He glances over you to his grandfather clock. Hmmm-perhaps he could spare a few minutes. He rises elegantly discarding his tie and waistcoat to his abandoned chair. Running a hand through his hair he snorts at your little whistle.

“Move.” He commands. You shake your head patting your belly. “I will crush you.” He laughs but lays over you regardless.

“Good-you’re warm.” You say muffled in his shirt. Wrapping your arms around his middle you drift off. Lucifer holds you close, running a still gloved hand up and down your side. Perhaps he should bring out some more complex topics next time. If this was the outcome-

Mammon

He noticed you get drowsy before in class. Your cute little head jerks as you nod off, hands rubbing at your face as you fight to stay awake before giving in to the need to sleep. It was adorable- not that he was watching you because of that! He was just doing his job of looking out for you

Ye-that was all.

Honestly, he thought you were just like him. He never cared for the books being forced on him in class. Boring useless crap in his opinion. He much rather sleep through a lecture on stats too.

Now books on photography? That's where it's at. He has a legitimate passion for it.

He likes being behind the camera just as much as he likes being in front of it. Though he doesn't snap photos often.

He doesn't need more beratement from his brothers than he already gets. Sides, he just feels like they would look down at this like everything else he does.

He'll share his hobby with you though. You at least seem interested in it. He'll show you his collection of vintage to high-tech cameras and talk your ear off about the makes, models, and features.

You nod along and ask questions from time to time, smiling along with Mammon while he prattles on about color theory next to you on the floor.

He was just getting to Auguste Lumiére when he feels a gentle bump on his shoulder.

"O-oi!" Mammon starts, shaking his shoulder to rouse you. You look up at him, blinking the sleep from your eyes. "Was...was I that boring?" He deflates a little, all previous excitement gone in a flash. You had seemed so interested...

"What? Oh, no. No Mammon I'm sorry. It's really all fascinating," You grab for his sleeve so he couldn't run away. "It was just a lot of information all at once. I just got a bit overwhelmed."

"So you fall asleep?" He raises a brow not believing you for a second. Who falls asleep when something is interesting? He'll admit he's fallen asleep while listening to Levi talk about a new anime or Asmo with a make-up release. But that's because it had been boring. "Is that like a human thing?"

You shrug snuggling closer. "I don't know- but it's a me thing. Give me five? I'd love to hear you talk more about your collection, promise."

Mammon glows scarlet at your words. "Of course you do!" He puffs out his chest excitedly. “I got great taste.” You nod into his shirt before drifting off again. He tilts his head slightly to look at you chuckling internally when your breathing and heartbeat slow down. Damn, out in seconds. Well, better get comfortable.

Uncrossing his long legs he picks up the camera he had been showing you. The old Polaroid lens reflects his face back at him. He remembered the day Land had debuted this marvel of engineering. He just had had to get his hands on one. It was useless now, he had much better quality cameras than this old thing, but he remembered you reminiscing about your human friends and their portable camera. Would you take some pictures with him too? He would take one now, but the sound of the flash would definitely wake you up.

He fiddles with it for a few more minutes, opening and closing the film canister and checking for any parts that needed fixing as he waits. You stir at his side a few minutes later with a little mew of satisfaction. Mammon hears your joints creak and pop as you stretch. "Morning." He says sarcastically, earning himself a light punch to his shoulder. "Ready to continue?"

You nod eagerly, perky and aware. At least for the moment.

Satan

He didn't really notice at first the pattern of your behavior.

You would come over for book club. Which was really just him reading his current novel and you picking something at random to gain a little random knowledge.

You would find a comfortable position on his bed, curl up nice and small and read. Then after a bit yawn and start to snooze.

He first thought it was the atmosphere of his room. It was quiet, warm, and the sound of flickering candles and the rustle of paper sometimes caused him to doze too.

But when it starts happening outside of class he notices.

Hmmm….this is new.

He looks it up in his human anatomy books and finds nothing.

He's not particularly worried about you per se. You always bounce back quickly after a quick snooze.

Then you start dozing when he is talking… >:(

Like his brother/dad he is a little miffed at first but then your behavior reminds him a cat and he loves you 10x harder now

Satan stops in his pacing of the back gardens. His book of poetry hanging limply in his hand. He had been reciting some of the most fascinating lines of work from Lord Byron's later works and wanted a human's perspective. He had thought you were interested. You never complained before when he asked you out here. Perhaps you were just being polite all those times before. Anything to soothe wrath. He snaps his book shut sharply, take some perverse satisfaction in the way you start out of your light sleep at the noise.

"Why'd you stop?" You ask wiping at your face.

"No point talking to someone that doesn't wish to listen." He snaps tersely.

"Oh-Satan, no I was listening. It...it just got to be so much so fast." You flush. “You had some great points going, I just needed a minute.” He watches your eyes grow heavy again, and it dawns on him.

"Do you just sleep when overwhelmed?" He asks incredulously. In all his years with humans, this was new. You shrug making grabby hands for him to move closer. He scoffs but moves into your space. You grab at the hem of his shirt and pull him down to sit next to you. He goes willingly getting comfortable by your side. You eye his lap longingly, hands clutching around his coat sleeve. “Fine-” He rolls his eyes. “Come here you odd thing.” You smile in triumph and crawl into his lap. Once settled you nuzzle into his warm chest.

“Wake me up in ten? I want to hear more about your conversations with Byron.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” He kisses the top of your forehead, opening his book to read again with one hand. You hum at his soft kiss, returning it sleepily with one of your own before passing out again. Ten minutes go by in an instant and Satan looks down at your peaceful face. He smiles to himself, perhaps he’ll let you sleep for a little while longer. You’d need it for his next point.

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me prompts #cute!

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whumpapalooza · 2 years

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Arete, part 5

FEBUWHUMP DAY 26: "please don't do this"

Glen's going through it lmao @febuwhump

(Space Interns Masterpost)

(First) (Prev) (Next)

Glen’s eyes were still closed, but he had begun to twitch.

Brando stood quietly. “Slipper?” he inquired. "Is he -"

“He appears to be waking,” Slipper replied. He approached the bed and called Glen’s name.

At Slipper’s rasp, Glen stiffened. His brow furrowed. Then, he croaked, “Slipper?”

Slipper’s frills relaxed. He turned to see the crew exchanging relieved glances. “That’s correct,” Slipper said. He turned back to Glen. “You’re in Aegis Medical Bay.”

Glen murmured something. When Slipper didn’t reply, Glen lifted his voice and repeated, “What happened?”

“It is a theory that you poisoned yourself to save my life.”

Glen’s eyes blinked open. “Huh?”

“Shortly before you fell ill, you consumed a drink made for me,” Slipper explained. “Further investigation has proven that the drink was laced with donna cortese.”

Glen’s expression shifted. “Oh. How – how bad is it?”

“Not good, Chuck,” Tabby said.

Glen blinked, just realizing the others were there. “Oh.”

“You’ve been in and out of consciousness,” Slipper reported, “but this is the first time you’ve been lucid all night.”

Glen swallowed, his face scrunching with pain.

“You should drink some water,” Slipper said. He poured a cup and held it to Glen’s lips.

“We found the antidote,” Blare explained as Glen sipped. “Slipper says you’re responding well to treatment."

“That’s correct,” Slipper said. “As long as your fever breaks tonight, you should recover.”

Blare patted Glen’s hand. “We’ll let you rest,” she said.

Blare, Tabby, and Brando each bade Glen and Slipper farewell, then left Med Bay.

Slipper searched Glen’s face, then dipped his head. “Rest,” he encouraged. “You’ll need your strength for what comes next.”

Glen nodded. “Is it… How bad is it going to be?” he asked, closing his eyes. “Because it sucks already.”

“It’s going to get worse before it gets better,” Slipper answered. He sat in the chair beside Glen’s bed.

Slipper waited until Glen shuddered asleep before he leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and sensed Glen’s heartbeat.

Humans had a tendency to refer to their hearts when describing their emotions. Slipper wondered, not for the first time, how overwhelming it must be to live in a human body.

Slipper had heard the rumors that humans were guided by their instinct to pack bond. When he’d first left his home planet, he thought the concept seemed primitive. But he had witnessed it for himself and learned its strength.

Slipper wondered if this special brand of human loyalty was the reason Glen had intercepted the poisoned glass.

As Slipper pondered this, he started to sense Glen’s body temperature rising. Slipper opened his eyes and saw sweat beading on Glen’s neck. Within minutes, Glen was fidgeting in discomfort.

The discomfort became pain, the fidgeting became writhing. Glen started to wheeze. He murmured incoherently.

Slipper felt like he was watching an icicle thaw, gathering water at its spike until the bead was too heavy and had to drop. Every water droplet brought the icicle closer and closer to melting completely. Slipper knew, without any doubt, that his own body would never have withstood the assault that raged against Glen’s.

Three hours later, Glen fell still.

Slipper raised his head. He watched Glen’s chest. It was barely rising.

“Glen,” Slipper said sharply.

Glen didn’t stir.

“Glen,” Slipper said again, standing.

No response.

Slipper's claws curled into fists.

There were limits to a physician’s capabilities, even in the year 627. Slipper was familiar with the feeling of powerlessness that came with healing. He had lost patients before; he had made peace with death.

But as death’s grip tightened on Glen, Slipper felt defiance flare in his chest.

“Don’t stop fighting,” he hissed. “Please, don’t do this.”

#febuwhump #febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday26 #please don't do this #whump #whump fic #whumpfic #space intern ocs #glen ptahfi #slipper hecatezen #brando dihonos #tabby nic'hel #blare minervas #drugged #fever #sci fi #sci fi whump #sci fi writing

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sixofpomegranates · 3 years

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The Dove and the Agent | Ch.1

🕊 Masterlist | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad 🕊

🔙 Previous Chapter

Chapter CW: Mentions of suicide/mental illness, angry spencer

"Nobody, Nobody can be sure they're always right. The ones who are fullest of themselves that way are the emptiest vessels." ― Seamus Heaney

♜ Spencer's POV ♜

It had been two weeks since I started two work at the BAU again. In my head, I already counted the days until I had to go back to being a Professor.

And even though I had tried once more, my arguments to stop this terrible circle went nowhere.

From time to time, I also still thought about Dove. I hadn't heard from her since I had told her that her theories surrounding Linda Harvey's suicide were wrong. Of course, I hadn't expected to have more conversations with her, but she still graced my mind at moments.

It also did not help that Garcia had told the team about how she looked something up for a girl in my class, and now Luke was teasing me, calling Dove my 'little college girlfriend'.

Just as I started writing the report on our last case, somebody came out of the elevator. Thinking it would be JJ and Penelope returning from their lunch break, I looked up.

My gaze fell straight to Dove Wallace. Her white-blonde, wavy hair was tied in a low ponytail to make her look older, and she wore brown waist-tie pants and a tucked-in cream turtleneck to seem professional.

I couldn't help but chuckle at that sight. For a Profiler, it was more than clear to see that she was nervous. Holding onto her, very similar to mine-looking messenger bag, Dove's eyes met mine as she started to rush up to me.

"Hello, Miss Wallace," I greeted her, raising my eyebrows.

"Hello, Professor! I- I was here two days ago, but the lady at the front desk told me you weren't here."

"Yeah, my team and I had a case in Seattle. Miss Wallace?" I took a deep breath and tried my best to sound as polite as possible. "I don't think it is appropriate of you, my twenty-year-old student, to come to the FBI Headquarters and visit me, your Professor. This could be interpreted wrong if you understand?"

Dove looked at me like a scolded puppy. "I'm twenty-one, Professor," she corrected me shyly and pulled a massive folder out of her bag, handing it to me.

I opened it—lots of Highlighter use, Post-its, and photos. I didn't even need to read it to know what this was about. It was a shame that this was nothing more than a conspiracy theory spun out of control.

"I already told you there was nothing suspicious about Linda Harvey's death."

A little frown started to show up on her soft, porcelain face. "I know, but I looked deeper into it and found out that there were more suicides before Linda and all of the victims were at least five times at our college's counselor's office."

I licked my lips, preparing to interrupt her, but she was way too quick to dump her informations on me.

"And they happen every year around the same time, during the finals, always three students. That has happened now for at least fifteen years in a row! Also, our counselor is English Professor Miller, and he always told us he's from the UK, but I looked him up and couldn't find anything on him older than twenty-five years! And-"

I raised my eyebrows. "I assume Professor Miller is one of your teachers?"

Dove nodded in reply. "He's my Professor in English Literature. Not the nicest guy to be around..."

I sighed. God, I had really thought of her as more rational.

"So you have a personal problem with your Professor and are now framing him as some kind of evil mastermind behind the suicide of a girl from your dorm?"

She shook her head, making some of her curls fall out of her ponytail. "No! I know something's going on because a large amount of the female suicides from the last fifteen years surround girls that went to the counselor's office on the regular and have him listed as their counselor."

She flipped the folder to a page with notes and Professor Miller's face. "And as you can see on page twenty, he does not come up when you try to look him up in the UK birth registers, in the town he says he was born in. The only man I found was a Henry Miller, who died at twenty-five, two years before Professor Christian Miller made his first appearance here in the States. So I called around and found out that although there isn't a Christian Miller in that town, they had a Christoph Arthur to which description-"

Interrupting her and standing up, I now hissed at her a little louder than planned. "Dove! Enough."

She winced at my harsh words as I pressed my palms to my desk, leaning closer to her.

"Not only do you show up here, completely uninvited, you also throw around your evidence lacking conspiracy theories and spread rumors about a colleague of mine. Why are you so stubborn about this?"

Dove just looked at me, eyes widened like a frightened little bunny.

"You didn't even read it," she almost whimpered in a voice so much smaller than usual. "Please. I know I am right. This man vanished and was known in town as a creep. Please. I know that's the same guy."

Her glassy eyes met my annoyed gaze over and over again as she tried to look away from me but forced herself to behave properly and keep eye contact.

"No." I sat back down in his chair, hoping she would get the hint and realize that the conversation was over.

"But-"

"I said no." I continued writing my report, starting to ignore her.

Even though I did not look up, I knew she was still there. A minute passed, and Dove stood there, not knowing what to do.

Why didn't she just leave?

"You know what, Professor?" She sounded angry. "If you would've taken some of your precious time to read what I found out, you would know that there's a pattern behind his doing. Since he started working at-"

At that, I lost my nerves. Who did she think she was, talking to me like that? I jumped up from my chair again and started to yell.

"Stop it! I don't want to fucking hear it." Then I took the folder and practically threw it at Dove, making the papers spill out of it and fall to the floor.

"Hey, are you alright down there?"

Emily closed the door, to her office, behind her and came down the stairs into the bullpen. She looked concerned and had clearly heard me yell at the young girl in front of me.

"I'm okay, Emily, nothing to worry about."

Just now, I realized that Emily had actually aimed that question toward Dove.

She came to my desk and held out her hand to the white-blonde girl. "I'm SSA Emily Prentiss. And you are?"

She shook Emily's hand. "Dove Wallace." Emily now looked at me. "I- I am one of Professor Reid's students."

"Ex-students," I added bitterly and sat back into my chair, desperate to continue my paperwork.

Meanwhile, Dove looked at me, absolutely mortified. "W-What? Why?"

Giving her an icy stare, I looked up. I was sick of all these rich young girls from my classes getting everything they wanted only because they were daddy's girls.

Thinking they deserved everything they wanted and, if not getting it, would throw tantrums.

Dove had probably never in her life heard the word no, never had to work for anything. She looked pretty and said please and got whatever she wanted. Not this time, though.

"Because you purposefully ignored mine and Professor Miller's boundaries and privacy and disrespected me. And to be frank, you really get on my nerves. I will inform the Decan about your suspension from my class tomorrow."

"That's not fair!" she cried at me, and I let out a sarcastic huff.

"Well, life isn't fair, Miss Wallace."

Dove was already walking away when she stopped and turned around to me. Walking up to my desk again, her eyes were filled with tears of anger.

"You know what?" she snarled at me. "There will be another death soon, and that one will be on you. Just remember that if you finally wake up and realize you're not omniscient, Professor, I told you so and tried to warn you."

Then she stormed off to the elevator, entering it as JJ and Penelope left it, pressing a button a few times while biting her lip, trying hard to fight back her tears.

"Uhm...What was that?" JJ looked at Emily with confusion while Penelope watched the elevator doors close.

"I knew we should've ordered. You know what? That's my own fault! My horoscope told me to follow my guts," Garcia said dramatically, throwing her hands over her head.

As the two of them reached my desk, they helped Emily pick up the papers scattered on the floor. I just rubbed my face and let my hand run through my curly mess of hair. When guilt for my harsh words started to sink in, I looked up.

"Was I too mean, Emily?" I asked, watching her as she put the last papers back in the folder and looked at me seriously while the two blondes read through it.

"From what I heard? Yes. You kicked her from your class because she was worried about a potential murder."

Now Penelope made big eyes. "Was that the girl I checked the files for?... What was her name...Birdie?"

No. It was Dove, like the bird. The little symbol of peace and love. A little white bird.

Her hair was certainly fitting. The white-blonde, although shimmering a little golden, indeed remembered of the feathers of doves if thinking long enough about it.

"Dove," I corrected, and Penelope started to pout at me.

"Boy Wonder, why did you make her cry? You are supposed to be the hero of your guys' story!"

"We don't have a story, Penelope. She is just a student with a wild imagination." I frowned.

"What is even going on?" JJ looked at me, completely confused, and I sighed, annoyed.

"That girl was Dove Wallace, a student of mine. A girl in her dorm killed herself, and she refuses to believe that there wasn't foul play involved. She even made a folder, which frames a teaching colleague of mine."

The women all looked at me concerned, and I instantly knew what they were thinking.

"No. Garcia and I checked, and she is wrong about it." Emily raised her eyebrows.

"But we only looked at the suicide of that one girl..." Garcia answered quietly, now looking at Emily.

"Spence, did you look at the folder at all?" JJ had a concerned look on her face. "She has some really concerning things listed in here. Like that Christoph Arthur...and how she thinks that's your colleague Christian Miller."

She gave the folder to Emily, who looked through the pages JJ mentioned and then handed the single page to Penelope and the rest of the folder to me.

After all these years, we didn't need to talk to know what the other wanted anymore. We had learned to communicate with each other wordlessly. Garcia, with her pink glasses and matching cat ears, went straight to her office while I, the ever so smartly dressed man, quickly read through the pages. I then leaned back in my chair, massaging my temples.

Fuck.

"I messed up," I murmured, hoping to get empathetic looks and somebody telling me that I hadn't made a mistake.

But Emily and JJ looked at me, and while JJ reached out and patted my shoulder to comfort me, the dark-haired woman just nodded in total agreement to my words. Emily surely was the one mirror I could never escape.

I both loved and hated her for that; she forced me to look at my errors and see beyond my stubbornness and pride.

"How do I fix this?" I pulled my phone out and looked through the numbers. "Should I call her? Is it okay to just call your student? JJ?"

JJ just shrugged. "Maybe we should wait for Garcia and see what she finds first..."

As if she had just waited for that line, the lively blonde came running out of her office with a tablet.

"Okay, you guys. I found nothing and everything! This Professor Miller doesn't even have a birth certificate. But I found quite a bit on Christoph Arthur."

She showed us her tablet with some very old documents on it.

"His mother was a prostitute in the little town named Honington Corner. Father is unknown, and there are a lot of medical documents from a now-closed mental institution I gave myself access to.

"Now listen closely, he was in there from the age of thirteen until eighteen, because his mother was worried about him seriously hurting someone, after finding his diary in which he called himself 'The Sheppard'. He also had a list of townspeople and pets he had deemed necessary to be killed to protect his herd."

"Those were all people with mental illnesses or addictions, and the animals? I don't even wanna know, but really weird. After his eighteenth birthday, they had to let him go since he never hurt somebody, even though some doctors were clearly against that. And then he vanished.

"And you sweet babies might think that is the last bit of information I have for you, but no!" Penelope pushed her glasses back.

"I found a Christian Arthur who, like Miller, has no background but appeared right after Christoph vanished and went to school and university to become a teacher."

She flipped to some of the University's pictures of 'Christian Arthur', and I recognized his face. Lo and behold, I did.

This was a mistake I shouldn't have made. My own stubbornness, me, wanting to ignore the fact that there might be some truth to Dove's words, so I wouldn't have to spend also my BAU days at college, had made me blind.

What kind of agent was I that I let that happen?

What kind of person was I?

"I already had the system check, and yes, the same guy as our professor. His classmate was a man named Henry Miller, who had some recorded addiction issues and was on his way to sobriety AND Christian was responsible for him, since they shared a room, and he was his sobriety support. The year they both graduated, not only Henry but also Christian's mother killed themselves, and Christian vanished forever."

We just exchanged shocked looks. The accuracy of Dove's research was astounding.

Henry Miller, Christoph Arthur...I wanted to kick myself.

"I also checked all the suicides that happened since Professor Christian Miller started to teach at your college, Boy Genius. And just like...Dove wrote in her folder, there is a clear pattern of three young girls with mental illnesses spending a large amount of time at the counselor's office and killing themselves around the same time every year. Sadly for us, none of them are marked by the police as suspicious. The girls really seem to have committed suicide without a trace of foul play."

I was always so careful and aware of my surroundings, yet I had fucked up. I got too caught up to accept any other truth than my own.

If Morgan would've still been part of the team, he would've punched me, and I would've been very thankful for it. Although he would probably still punch me, should I tell him about it. Agent or not, it was his duty as 'big brother' to beat some sense into me.

"Well, the thing is, we can't do anything about it. We might have this connection about his changed name and that he was in a mental institution, but that's it. As you said, Penelope, he has never hurt anyone. At least it never got tracked down, and the girls were all mentally ill to some degree," Emily stated, much to my misliking.

"However.." a slight smile popped into her face. "I am going to talk to the police department responsible for those suicides and tell them that if another one happens, they have to contact us immediately. I'll tell them an anonymous caller reported some kind of suicide club or something like that. If they ask for help, we can go there and have a look ourselves. Also, we can get a grip of Miller and see if he is as dangerous as Dove suspects."

With that, Emily went up to her office, leaving Garcia, JJ, and me alone.

Coffee. I needed a coffee.

#spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds angst #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #professor!reid #professor reid #professor spencer reid #prof!reid #post prison reid #spencer reid comfort #spencer reid slowburn #spencer reid x original female character

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freetheshit-outofyou · 2 years

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I must have hit close enough to make Anon question their deeply felt beliefs

Anon, there is a place beyond your device, a crazy wild place called the outside. I have been there and that is why I have not responded to you. BUT, since all 3 of these overlap here and there I’ll just lump them all in together as you all have done with people who supported Mr. Trump. But first here is the post that has brought this all on just incase folks at home want to follow along. Source

Anon, #1: I know full well you cannot dictate a virus away like the current administration has tried to do. You cannot care it away with coercion or threats to livelihoods wither. No bullet, no politician or cloth mask is going to stop it. You and I seem to agree on that. “I don't agree that health care workers should have been let go. There's a solution to that. That would be above even your learned head I'm sure.” Again someone who claims to have a solution but failed to enlighten us all with it, that normally mean the idea is piss poor or unattainable. I’ll give you my solution, let it the fuck alone. The medical staff, those technicians, CNA’s, have all been in this mess from the start no matter what administration, what federal, state or local government was butt fucking the hell out of it, those people were at work doing what they do. Granted some of those workers fell on the shot/mask Nazi side, but most didn’t. They went to work because they genuinely wanted to help and they were fired for it. The facts of who is in the hospital, who is on ventilators (Almost no one by the way, because the ventilators were exacerbating the illness and causing deaths that did not need to happen. But who wants to hear about all that truth.) and who is still getting sick is it about 60/40 vaccinated to not vaccinated getting sick. It’s not hard to do the numbers. Even giving it 50/50 vaccinated to not the numbers are still in the unvaccinated favor because they didn’t have to do anything to have the same odds as the vaccinated.

Anon #2: Mr. Trump did in fact say that, as did the CDC and WHO, although both backed off that claim. Hospitals were also using UV to “sterilize” mask because of the short supply caused but panic buying and scalpers. That did not mean reusing a disposable item was a great idea on anyone’s part. I did not say he was right at any point, just about everything we have been told about mask usage has been hogwash. I am not old enough to have gotten the polio shot, I did get the Smallpox shot and the 10 year booster. But comparing the Polio vaccine to the CoVID19 “vaccine” is not apples to apples. The first work on a polio vaccine started in 1932, the first fully licensed vaccine in the US would not happen until 1961. The first widespread vaccine would not happen until 1953, that was 5 years after John Enders breakthrough in 1948. The bulk of medications being used to fight this, with the exception of the Remdesivir/Veklury, are less than 2 years old. There are no long term studies like there were in the 29 years between the start of a polio vaccine and the realized vaccine. I’d be willing to bet that is why people have little faith in the forced fed, slanted, reporting of the vaccines overall. I would expect a vaccine with such a long development window to have fewer side effects and one that was rushed into production in 18 months.

That just leaves you Anon #3: At no point in any of my writings on this subject have I ever implied that his was planned. At no point did I say China launched an attack on the world, but I also have not counted out the possibility that this was in fact man made and escaped a lab. I do not have access to anything that either develops the origin of the virus or disproves one theory over another. Until I have that I have no real opinion one way or the other. It’s here and we have to live with it. As I have asked the other Anon’s, if there are flaws in my writing, please correct me. Don’t come to the table with “Your long rant on your "old job" was inherently with many flaws too numerous to mention but I will say this, a virus is not HAZMAT.” and then not add to the discussion. There is even a chance my clearly uneducated ass might agree with your point of view. See, I do not have any illusion that what I wright is the first, best answer or opinion, what it is, is backed by facts. With that said “Biological” absolutely falls under the purview of HAZMAT. “Cloth masks are all we have.” Apparently blind obedience is also all you have also. For all of the Anon’s, you clearly do not follow me because if you did you would know I was not Mr. Trumps biggest fan. I did not care for the guy then and I do not care for him now but as a president he did what I needed him to do. Flip the table and make all sides of the political arena nervous.

#covid

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anotherkyoto · 2 years

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the ephemeral radio. joshua crane investigates a town filled with ghosts of the past, present and future. though one can almost find proof of the non-existence of the paranormal, the little town is the exception for it.

content warning for the entire story: mention of child abuse, mental illness, violence, discussion of suicide, drug use, cadaver and gore.

[archive of all the casettes]

Casette no.I. [1K]

Silence lays heavily on the small manx town of Ephemeral. The streetlamps, that look a lot like old gas lamps, but since then renovated to be electrical, are illuminating the town square. There's not a single soul outside, not after the disappearance of Margarethe Shelley.

It's past midnight, as the clock on the library tower says, and as such as this time means that the teenagers and the odd folk of Ephemeral are intently listening to their radios.

"Local police announced they're still on the lookout for the beast that has been spreading fear throughout the entire town. And that has claimed four victims since Friday night.

Authorities asked to remain indoors until the creature has been captured and the curfew is lifted.

You're listening to 102.3, the Ephemeral Frequency, all night, every night." The calming, yet eerie voice of the Host announces his intro for the night. A soft and short tune follows, as they usually do in podcasts and radio stations, and then the Host continues.

"Unfortunately, against the usual method, you need to leave a message for now, if you have any stories to tell about your encounters with the supernatural. Because tonight I have prepared something different for you. We have a very special guest joining us tonight, basically a celebrity since her disappearance from town."

The man says with an excited voice into the microphone as he hangs up an incoming call to the radio. He looks at the woman infront of him, bound to the wooden chair by ropes.

"Margarethe Shelley, an outsider, not so long ago, am I correct?"

"What is this?! Why am I here?!" The young woman answers in a panicked voice, just woken up from her forced dream. She can barely remember where she was or how she got here. She tries against her bonds but to no avail.

The Host doesn't even acknowledge her existence as he continues his monologue.

"Say hello to the audience, Margarethe."

Of course the young woman doesn't reply. She remembers the man from somewhere, but she can't quiet put a finger on it. She barely lived in this town anyway, only arrived a couple of months ago. Her employer sent her there to investigate the strange phenomenas, that's been rumored to happen around this strange old town.

"You know, Margarethe, there has been a lot of speculations about what has really brought you to Ephemeral. No one knows exactly for sure what you were doing here or why, not even our dear mayor, but there have been a lot of theories and rumors."

She scoffs, her blonde hair falling into her face as she angrily replies.

"There's no mystery. I'm only here because of my work. I was doing renovations of old books in the local library."

"Oh is that right?" The man counters quickly with a mocking tone. "The librarian didn't know anything about this mystery renovation of yours."

"My employer is someone else." She bites back bitterly.

"And whom might that be?"

"That's confidential." She says and there's a couple seconds of silence between the two.

The Host smiles and it scares the woman.

"Of course, I understand... yet people have wondered when you left so suddenly, without any warning. Even missing person posters have been put up all over town."

"I wasn't missing." She replies shortly, still there's a sudden change in her voice. No more vice, no more bitterness, only sadness.

The Host knows the reason and he smiles with a grin and continues.

"Oooh, I know. But there have been other missing person reports. Children, barely old enough to leave their house by their own."

"I've had nothing to do with that, please. I'm begging you... I was going to go home to my family, they're surely missing me by now, if I don't return-"

"But of course your family can be glad, because you're not really missing. Unlike the children, brutally attacked and murdered by some beast."

There's silence again before a few tears slide down on the woman's cheeks.

"Please." Is her only reply.

The Host opens his desks' drawer and pulls out a silver revolver, already loaded and he points it at Miss Shelley. She sobs as she closes her eyes.

"If there's anyone listening, come to the radio station please, I'm begging you-"

"Of course, but the children were begging as well, I bet." The Host replies coldly without emotion.

The room is suddenly illuminated, not only by the few neon signs, but the moon as well.

"What's happening?!" An afraid shriek leaves the woman as she starts to shake in the chair, her whole body feeling like it's on fire.

"Margarethe, thank you for being here tonight. This month's celebrity in Ephemeral. We wish you safe travels home... the raining has stopped, the weather is clearing and we featured Miss Margarethe Shelley on The Ephemeral Frequency. We'll be right back, stay tuned."

XXX the radio remained silent for almost an entire minute, as the music was cut off suddenly - note, by J.C.

"We heard from the authorities, and the creature has finally been captured. Our next song is dedicated to them.

The creature has been identified as a wolf, and has been brought down by our brave officers. The victims of this creature are forever in our memories and we keep their families in our thoughts.

I suggest, my dear listeners, you stay inside tonight, though it stopped raining and the last full moon of august is brightly shining...

You know what they say... if there is one wolf, there is usually more around the area.

You have been listening to the Ephemeral Frequency, I'm your Host, and as always, I'll be here for you all night, every night."

#os: the ephemeral radio #the ephemeral radio #casette 1

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specterchasing-a · 3 years

Text

Hold On (Part One) || Eddie & Alfie

TIMING: One month ago.

LOCATION: Alfie’s apartment.

PARTIES: @yikesimonfire & @specterchasing

SUMMARY: Eddie wants Alfie to accompany him on a little adventure. A lot of things go unsaid, but that’s probably for the best.

CONTENT: Internalized homophobia

Eddie carefully straddled the knee-high barrier that divided the apartment balconies. With a quiet grunt, he raised his leg and landed safely on Alfie’s property. He never locked the sliding door and Eddie didn’t have the patience to wait for him in the hallway. In all likelihood, the door would be shut in his face if Alfie had the option to block him out. Eddie didn’t appreciate being rejected, so things were better this way.

“Alfie?” Eddie announced himself curiously as he opened the balcony door. “I need your help with something.”

The sound of Eddie’s voice from his living room broke Alfie’s concentration, pulling him away from the string of code he was helplessly scratching his head over. One of these days he’d learn to lock the balcony door — at least while he worked. “‘Course you do,” Alfie mumbled to himself as he ran a hand down the length of his face.

“I’m in here,” he called out, pushing his chair away from the desk until he latched onto the doorknob. With a faint click, Alfie swung the office door open and rolled back to his desk. “This important?”

As soon as Eddie heard Alfie’s voice, he made a beeline for the office. He stood at the door, grinning from ear to ear, and offered a small wave. “All work and no play makes Alfie a dull boy. You’re aware of that, right?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. He liked his neighbor, quite a bit actually, but he wished Alfie was a little more social. Getting him to commit to a conversation for more than a few sentences felt like pulling teeth. More often than not, Alfie regarded him with enthusiasm of someone having their teeth pulled, too. Eddie was used to it.

“It’s monumentally important, actually,” Eddie answered with a nod. “I have plans tonight, filming plans, and I want you to come with me.” He raised his brow provocatively. “I know you’re gonna say no or fabricate some brand-new illness that you don’t have, but c’mon, it could be really fun, don’t you think? We never hang out.”

Alfie’s gaze shifted from the computer screen to the doorway where Eddie stood. He wished he could wipe the smug smile from the other man’s face that came along with that ridiculous proverb. Another part of him wished Eddie’s smile wasn’t contagious. “I’ll have you know, I did not make up conjunctivitis,” retorted Alfie with the hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wouldn’t comment on any of his other recent ‘diagnoses’.

“What kind of filming plans, exactly?” he asked, his fingers locked behind his head as he swiveled to face Eddie, giving him his undivided attention. It was still a long shot that Alfie would bite, but he’d entertain the idea before crushing Eddie’s hopes and dreams.

“You sure? Sounds pretty fake to me,” Eddie said with a smirk. He knew conjunctivitis was real, but that didn’t stop him from playing dumb in the hopes that it might elicit a reaction from Alfie. He liked getting under his skin almost as much as he liked making him laugh. He wished he had more chances to do both.

“I need to go to the woods again. You know the couple that went missing recently? I saw on the news that their bodies were found somewhere near Dark Score Lake, but here’s the kicker; all that was left of them were their bones. They went missing last fuckin’ week and that’s all that’s left. Vines had already taken over the remains.”

“I have a theory about what’s behind it, but I wanna know for certain. More importantly, I want evidence.” Eddie’s gaze remained on Alfie. Barely concealed hope shone in his eyes. “So, yeah, company would be appreciated.”

“So let me get this straight…” Alfie’s brow was raised skeptically as he carefully reiterated Eddie’s proposal. “You want to go to the woods where people died… all to prove your little theory on video, and you want me to do what exactly? Be your bodyguard?” A small laugh swelled within his chest. “You’re joking, right?”

Shaking his head, Alfie turned back to his desktop. “Some bodyguard I’d be — more of a meat shield than anything else.” He knew full well that Eddie wouldn’t be that easy to turn down. He’d most likely hang around, maybe even get on his hands and knees to beg Alfie to go with him. “‘Sides, I haven’t even checked the weather. You know how my joints get when it rains. I’d only slow you down and before you know it, a week’s gone by and they’re reporting our bones on the news.”

Eddie’s mood deflated somewhat when Alfie outright laughed at his proposal. He understood but, just once, he thought it might be nice to have someone accompany him without needing to be begged. “Not a bodyguard—a friend,” he corrected him with a more mild smile than before. “Friends, y’know, do things together sometimes. Sounds zany, I know, but I hear it helps make them into even better friends.”

“I already checked the weather,” Eddie said, not that it would’ve taken Alfie more than 10 seconds to do it himself. He loved his excuses, even the fragile ones. “There shouldn’t be any rain tonight, just some wind. I wouldn’t invite you if there was even a 10% chance it would storm.” Eddie raised his chin slightly, an expectant look on his face. “You should come with me, Alfie. You’re due for a little fun.”

Much to his chagrin, Alfie hadn’t been successful at turning Eddie down. It was nothing new; he was notorious for avoiding things by the skin of his teeth. But there was something in the tone of Eddie’s voice that made Alfie’s heart sink. His eyes flickered back to Eddie whose face was drained of enthusiasm. “A friend,” Alfie parroted. It really wasn’t fair that Eddie could worm his way into his heart like this, but he had a suspicion that this feeling was not exclusive to him. It was just... Eddie.

“Say I do go with you,” he finally chirped. “Aside from what I presume will be a fuckton of fun and friendly bonding time… What’s in it for me?” It sounded selfish, Alfie knew that. Even still, it didn’t stop him from dragging out the inevitable. “I mean, y’know, you get your video out of it too, right? Doesn’t seem like a level playing field.”

Eddie nodded when Alfie repeated the dreaded “f” word. He knew his shut-in of a neighbor didn’t value things like genuine human connections, but Eddie felt determined to make himself an exception. “Proud of you for saying it out loud, I know ‘friend’ is like an obscenity to you,” Eddie teased with his hand over his heart. He didn’t understand Alfie; the guy could be surrounded by people who loved him if he would only put forth a little effort. Eddie would be among them, no question.

As Alfie spoke up again, Eddie’s brow raised in hopeful curiosity. The questions that followed immediately made it fall into a furrow. “That’s so fucked up,” he asserted. “I offer you pure platonic love and you’re telling me it’s not enough motivation for you, Alfie Ramirez?” He pushed off from the doorframe and firmly planted his hands on either hip. “You’re lucky that I don’t have more dignity, is all I’m saying. What do you want? Money? My HBOMax login info? Name it, you greedy fuck. Your wish is my command.”

Alfie’s face flushed when Eddie drew attention to his repetition of the word ‘friend’. In truth, Alfie hadn’t noticed he’d done it at all, though he could understand why it stood out. Things like that didn’t usually bear repeating. "Har har," he rolled his eyes. Alfie wasn't about to die on a hill proclaiming he had more friends than he knew what to do with. Eddie might have been his neighbor, but he was also the closest Alfie had to a friend in years.

A terse laugh escaped his lips at the mention of "pure platonic love". With a broad grin, Alfie quickly intercepted. "No, Ed. You offered imminent death. But same difference, right?" The smile never wavered from his face as he listened to Eddie prattle off various options. The corner of his mouth twitched mischievously. "I already have your HBOMax login, by the way. You really need to change your passwords," he smirked.

Alfie wasn't usually someone who wanted for anything; he kept to himself and got what he needed. But there was one thing that would make it worthwhile. "Alright, fine. I'll go with you," he decided. "But after all's said and done, you owe me a box of Baby Ruths. I'm talkin' unopened retail box, nothin' but Baby Ruth goodness inside."

Imminent death. Eddie rolled his eyes playfully. “You are so dramatic,” he insisted. Most of his content-related adventures were potentially perilous but, lo and behold, Eddie still had a pulse. He couldn’t imagine what would make tonight any different. “You’re stealing from me?” he asked, feigning shock. “I’ll change them immediately, alfieisatool69 should do just fine—wait, shit, I shouldn’t have said that out loud.” Truthfully, Eddie couldn’t care less if Alfie used his login info, it felt like something friends would do. Granted, friends probably asked first, but that was neither here nor there.

“That’s it?” Eddie asked. “You could have asked for anything in the world and you went with candy bars.” It would’ve been physically impossible for him to be grinning any wider. “You’re a simple kind of guy, I respect that. Consider those candy bars signed, sealed, and delivered. Now, get your shit and let’s go solve a murder.”

“Technically,” Alfie stressed, unlocking his hands from behind his head to raise one of his fingers, “I’m stealing from WarnerMedia.” His brow raised at the new password Eddie threw out. After a brief lull, Alfie’s hands dropped to the arm rests of his chair, and gave a soft snort. “Alfieisatool69 — really? You’d use my name as a password? Gotta be honest with ya, Ed, that’s kinda gay.” Throughout their years as neighbors, Eddie’s feet remained firmly planted in his heterosexuality. It was rare that Alfie made friends at all, let alone with straight guys. This, he figured, was exactly the kind of ribbing to be expected in the friendship dynamic they shared — not that he had anything to compare it to.

With a shrug, Alfie pushed himself from his seat. “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a good nougat.” No amount of candy bars would be able to prepare him for what was sure to come. But Alfie wasn’t in the position to demand egregious compensation when someone he considered a friend was essentially begging for his company.

“What all do I need?” he finally asked as he slipped his wallet into his back pocket.

Eddie’s hand raised and mimicked a flapping jaw when Alfie corrected him with a technicality. When his new password was deemed gay, he scoffed. “You caught me—I’m so gay for you, the guy I need to bribe to spend time with me.” Eddie’s lips pursed as he proffered an exaggerated shrug. “I think if I was gay, which I’m not, I’d probably be more interested in someone who, I dunno, liked spending time with me.” He sounded more terse than he intended to, as if what he said held more genuine feelings than it did. So he thought, anyway. “The syphilis is also kind of a turn-off,” he added to make-up for the weight of his previous comment.

“Whatever the Alfie-essentials are. We’re just going to the woods and I’ve already got all of the filming equipment packed and ready to go,” Eddie informed him with a bright grin. “You are so not gonna regret this.”

“You caught me—I’m so gay for you...” The declaration caught Alfie off guard. For a moment he could feel his heart racing in his chest. After all this time? But before he could say anything irrational, Eddie pulled him back down to Earth fast enough to give him whiplash. Same old Eddie; he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Alfie was silent for a moment as he shuffled into a pair of sneakers haphazardly strewn across the floor. “Oh, right — the syphilis,” he half-laughed. “Good news is, Doc says I’m cured! I would have mentioned it sooner if I’d known that was a deal-breaker for you.” With a low grunt, he wiggled his heel into its shoe and scooped his phone up from the desk.

“Just gotta grab my keys,” Alfie added with a nod towards the office door, hoping Eddie would lead the way out so he didn’t have to walk past him. He didn’t know what else to say. Eddie didn’t think he enjoyed their time together; that much was made clear by the resulting whiplash. Granted, Alfie hadn’t given him reason to believe otherwise, but that didn’t keep him from climbing the balcony rails to visit.

You could start by apologizing, his inner voice rang. While Alfie knew he probably should, he was worried it wouldn’t seem genuine enough. “You’re wrong, by the way,” he offered instead. He refused to make eye-contact and instead stared at the floor, but it was a start. “I like spending time with you. I mean, y’know… when it doesn’t pull me away from work. But — I do.”

“Well, clearly, we have no choice but to run away together, if that’s the case,” Eddie teased. He hated the way he didn’t hate the sound of that. He liked Alfie a lot, too much for comfort sometimes. Eddie noticed little things about his neighbor that shouldn’t have stood out to him: the rasp in his voice when he first woke up, the flash of his teeth when he spoke, the subtle crinkle around his eyes when he smiled. Seeing all of that and having his heart push him to do things he didn’t want to was agonizing. He told himself that must be what caring about a friend felt like, and usually he could convince himself to believe that, but sometimes…. Sometimes, he knew better.

Eddie stepped aside to let Alfie pass. To his surprise, he had something to say before he did. He studied his friend’s face as he spoke; flash of teeth, he was fucked. For the first time since he arrived, Eddie’s face bore a serious expression. “You do?” he asked before he could catch himself. “I mean, yeah, I was only teasing.… I know you do, Alfie.” He offered him a small smile. “Let’s get out of here.”

Alfie managed to skirt past Eddie with minimal effort; head lowered and shoulders down. Something in the way the other man spoke made it sound like a suggestion rather than a jest. He couldn’t afford to think like that. Besides, no matter how much truth it held, Alfie was better off alone. He’d die sooner than later and he wasn’t going to put his friend — or anyone for that matter — in that situation.

“That’s what this is all about, right?” Alfie teased back, deciding that was what was expected of him. “I thought that’s what ‘let’s go solve a murder’ was code for.”

In no time at all, he led the way down the short hall, only stopping at the front door long enough to snatch the keys off the hand-me-down entry-way table. “Cool,” blurted Alfie as he nodded along. “I didn’t want you thinking I don’t want you around, y’know?” His eyes shot up to meet Eddie’s for a brief moment and flashed an apologetic smile as he held the door open for him.

#c: alfie #wickedswriting #writing #hold on #// this is the first installment to something that is going to end up being longer than my life #but yolo

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mailorderfictionalcharacter · 3 years

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to love & be loved

@startreksecretsanta and @spinifex-ao3, I present my humble gift for the 2020 Secret Santa Exchange.

to love & be loved is a Raffi-centric short fic. It can be read on AO3 here, or below the cut.

There was this thing Raffi's therapist recommended. She said that we tend to view mental ailments as a result of a singular issue, when that was not the case. This isn't unique to the so-called mental conditions; physical ailments are always the result of multiple convergent factors, many of them largely outside of our control. Whether you break a bone running down a corridor depends on the gravity levels, the angle, your physical ability to catch yourself (or not), your species' biological attributes, and so on. But because the bone is easier to fix, we don't place as much value on all these could-have-happeneds.

So her therapist recommended that she looks at her alcoholism, even at the collapse of her family, and traces its lineage. To assemble the history in whatever way she preferred; a narrative, an artwork, a quasi-scientific graph, a mission report. Raffi tried and failed.

She ended up with a start chart of the Milky way, no, too big, zooming into a few classic earth constellations. She grabbed her stylus and pulled it across the screen, trying to connect disparate factors.

Childhood??? --- > my son --- > my husband left me

kicked out of starfleet --- > Starfleet = War?

Starfleet = JL? -- > betrayal?

She couldn't talk about any of it. She brought in a star chart with a handful of annotations explaining her biggest failures and regrets. She could barely explain why she wrote them down without crying, her hand itching for the phantom weight of a glass, even filled with water. So mapping the lineage of her alcoholism & her life became their goal. The implication being that you cannot fight a monster you cannot name.

***

Raffi's therapist was an Andorian woman with deep blue skin, almost an indigo tone. She was tall and friendly in a way that was sometimes clean and professional and sometimes cute and childish. On Earth, she took the name of Julia for some of her clients. Her actual name was J''ul/sth, but more humans were able to pronounce the vowels in Julia, so Julia it is. Julia was a fiercely intellectual woman and would cater her services to different conceptions of what it means to be mentally unwell. She was familiar with centuries of earth, Betazoid, and Andorian theories of mental illness, many of which weren't even addressed within the medical model preferred by Starfleet. Even in her darkest hours, Raffi could barely think a negative thought about Julia; her competence, her expertise was... illuminating.

For someone who had been judged by her own spouse as incapable, for someone who struggled to take care of her hair or to sweep a floor, it was intoxicating to have this brilliant woman focused solely on her for an hour each week. Julia never condescended. She had this assured confidence that Raffi was an interesting person, still worth talking to. It was the sort of thing that could give you hope, if you let yourself believe. It was also the sort of thing Raffi fucked up.

***

Julia was not a believer in abstinence from alcohol as the definition as sobriety. She pointed to it as an outdated Earth concept that had far too long of a shelf life for the evidence behind it. She encouraged Raffi to define her own boundaries about what substance use or lack thereof meant. And Raffi remembered when she could go to a bar for the music and the sensory experience of one or three Saurian brandies without the all consuming urge, twisting under her skin, telling her to escape from her life. And that was their goal. But Raffi didn't tell Julia which bar. She went to a local bar, one that straddled the line between bar and pub and played live music, an eclectic mix of whoever was willing to play for cheap, across genres, cultures, and species. Tonight was a young human teen, not a singer. They were remixing Vulcan instrumental music, very peaceful and precise, with bright and happy sounds. It was almost gauche, the way the emotions would intercut through the melodies. The sort of thing that art and music journals would comment on, asking if it was subversion or a childish rebellion, a blending of cultures or a mocking. The sort of thing that goes good with brandy.

And it was good. It was good for an hour, slowly nursing two drinks. It was good until she saw her, walking in kind of tipsy, skin flushed a warm blue. Surrounded by friends, bar hopping. On a youthful adventure. She felt ashamed, in that moment. That this woman half her age was supposed to be giving her advice, pretending to listen to her problems. That she could never be one of those friends, all so young, with a world to explore.

When Julia caught her eye, she walked over to say hello. And when Julia's friends asked her who she was, Raffi called herself a friend; not a client, not a patient. She doesn't know what it says that Julia didn't correct her; probably that outing a client was a breach of professional ethics. Raffi has more brandy, to wash away the deception, the feeling of herself as lecherous and pathetic and weak.

Raffi wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, entangled in long blue limbs. For a moment, this brings her happiness. The idea that she was wanted, that the woman who knew so much about her made love to her.

It was only for a moment.

She shifted out of the bed, cautiously. She left to the sound of gentle snoring and the feeling of breeze and slick on her public hair.

She didn't go back to therapy, after that.

She met Benjamin Sisko, Emissary to the Prophets and legendary war hero, at a Starfleet Intelligence conference. It was near the end of her career; there wasn't much longer she could hold onto the idea of the person she used to be, of whatever Starfleet begged from her. There were always threats on the horizon and she had become numb to it all. But Sisko interested her.

In a way, his life was quite possibly her worst nightmare. The idea of being essentially forced into a religion because, by the way, you are now an important figure in our religion and its impact on interstellar politics... what a nightmare. That wasn't mentioning being pulled out of linear time by powerful aliens worshipped as gods. At least -

At least when Q had showed up that one time, JL and him had a bit of a rapport.

But he didn't seem unhappy. She was used to seeing the haunted faces at conferences, as people who were raised in peace and sent out to explore ended up soldiers for war. Starfleet Intelligence was different, it attracted a more cynical bunch. The sort who wouldn't show it. But Sisko seemed... happy. He didn't look like a man who was kidnapped in order to appease powerful beings, or even someone straining under a PR lie. He looked like he had transcended beyond it all. And yeah, she wanted a piece of that.

But she couldn't ask for it. It was a crazy request. It was her imprinting her desires and pains onto a stranger's life.

It surprised her, after the conference, when he approached her and asked if she knew any Bajorans.

“Just the one.” Something in her felt compelled to add, “he wasn't religious.”

“So I'll be the first one to surprise you like this.”

And he grabbed her by the ear, what the shit, and said, in a low voice. “Your pagh is strong.”

***

After Agnes Jurati confessed to murdering a man, on their ship, the scientist had cried, and asked her, “Why are you still being so nice to me?” There were a lot of answers Raffi did not give. She did not say that she had a son and a husband who wouldn't let her love them and her desire to care for someone was apparently stronger than the realization that they were a semi-brainwashed murderer. She did not say that at this point, she didn't feel like she could judge anyone, morally speaking. Or that maybe this was pragmatism, keeping your friends close and your potential enemies closer. Or that at the very least, there wasn't much she could do to fuck up Agnes' life anymore, which is a marked improvement from the rest of her relationships.

Instead, she let herself feel soft. “Because, sometimes we make mistakes. And even if we can't fix them, I think we should still let ourselves love and be loved.”

#raffi musiker #alcoholism

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darkling-er · 3 years

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content warning for the entire story: mention of child abuse, mental illness, violence, discussion of suicide, drug use, cadaver and gore.

[masterpost]